Fiddle of Gold
by Somer Rahne
Summary: Johnny is a mutant who must play for his soul


A Fiddle Of Gold   
By Somer   
Disclaimer: The song "The Devil Went Down to Georgia" isn't mine, it's someone else's. Johnny isn't mine either, though the idea he's a mutant is. The TCP concept was created by Kielle and Mr. Phil Foster, and the universe belongs to Marvel. Oh, yes. There's one bad word, but if you've heard the song, you'll know what it is.   
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Oh, God. Here we go. "Sir?"   
"Yes?"   
This is good. I'm not in the Pits yet. "Sir, you realize we're behind on our quota? All the routine possessions have done nothing for us, and no one seems particularly interested in selling their souls."   
"Go on."   
Wow. Still not in the Pits. Maybe I'll get through this. "We're bringing in essentially nothing, sir. People just aren't afraid of you anymore."   
"I...see."   
Oh, shit. He's got that look in his eye. I can't stop now! "The state of Georgia, however, has not changed in many years. I believe you could find someone susceptible enough there."   
"Of course."   
I'm gone. Not the wand. Not the wand! "Aaaarrgh!"   
"Never tell me I'm doing something wrong, demon."   
  
Johnny Stone glanced up as a horse and rider went by, then started another song on his instrument of the day, a fiddle. When he was ten, the sandy-haired youth had discovered that he could play any instrument better than anyone around him. That had often gotten him into trouble, so he had given up playing around people, because they always brought out their own champion, and Johnny hated seeing the crest-fallen looks on people's faces.   
Letting the music take him away, he failed to notice the man standing on the hickory stump nearby, until the song was done.   
"Hello," the man said simply.   
"Hello," Johnny responded. It didn't always pay to be nice to strangers, but you never knew.   
"Can I tell you something, boy?" the stranger asked, and Johnny shrugged.   
"Sure."   
There was a faint popping sound, when Johnny blinked, and in the place of the man stood a tall being, complete with horns, red skin, a tail, and cloven feet. His hands had huge claws, and Johnny figured he was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen.   
"You see, boy, I'm a fiddle player, too. And I was wondering if you'd care to make a bet with me. Hear me out," the devil said quickly, seeing Johnny's hesitation. "Now, you play a pretty good fiddle, boy, but I play better. And I'm willing to bet this," he held out a solid gold fiddle, one of his better creations, "against your soul."   
Johnny thought about it. On one hand, if he won, he'd have a solid gold fiddle, proof he'd beaten the devil at something. On the other hand, if he lost, he'd lose his soul. Also on the first hand was the fact that if he brought a solid gold fiddle home, it was proof he'd been willing to bet his soul on something not of the church, and he'd be shunned.   
But a solid gold fiddle! he argued with himself. Exactly. A solid gold fiddle.   
"My name's Johnny, devil, and I'll take your bet. And I'll win, too, because I happen to be the best." Brave words, Johnny-boy, he thought. What if your powers don't work this time?   
The devil set the gold fiddle aside, and brought out his own fiddle. It was masterfully crafted, and Johnny felt drawn to it.   
I'd rather take that one, he thought, than the gold one.   
"I'll start this show," the devil announced, rosining up his bow. There was an evil hiss from the strings, and Johnny took a step back involuntarily, the charm the fiddle offered disappearing for a second with the evil sound.   
From out of nowhere came a demon band, complete with drums and a guitar. In fact, the devil's playing sounded like a guitar, not like a fiddle at all.   
When the devil stopped playing, Johnny raised an eyebrow. For all the dancing around the devil had done, it had only been a mediocre song.   
"And to challenge you, boy," the devil said, "You get to play four songs, just like I played one."   
"That's not fair!" Johnny protested, and the devil grinned.   
"Nothing I do is very fair."   
Muttering to himself, Johnny rosined up his own bow, then began. First up was "Fire On The Mountain." The music swept Johnny away, and as soon as it was done, he began "Devil's In The House Of The Rising Sun," which made the devil laugh. Two more songs later, the devil wasn't laughing any more.   
"You cheated!" he hissed, knowing he was bested. "Somehow, you cheated!"   
"I know, devil. But you didn't give me much of a choice."   
The devil picked up the gold fiddle and threw it at Johnny's feet. "Take the fiddle, boy! I'll be back to collect it, along with your soul, soon enough," he growled.   
Johnny scoffed. "Devil, you can come back and challenge me any day you want, with any instrument of your choice, 'cause I told you once, you son of a bitch, I'm the best there's ever been."   
And as the devil vanished, Johnny began to play again, a mocking rendition of what the demon himself had played. 


End file.
